Page 40 of Severe Husband Warning

“So this is how you see Ti’lith,” I whisper, unable to hide my wonder.

A faint smile touches Rothgar’s mouth. He steps back to make room for me, and I instinctively move into the space he leaves behind. When he joins me again a moment later, he comes to stand just behind my shoulder, close enough that I can feel the quiet warmth of him at my back while both of us look down at the parchment.

“This is how I am required to see it.”

His hand glides across the schematic as he explains how storm energy enters the city before dividing into countless conduits that feed every district according to its needs.

I follow the path of his fingertips across the silver lines until familiar streets begin dissolving into something entirely different. Markets I once wandered every week reveal themselves as junctions feeding power throughout the district, while the bridges I’d crossed since childhood anchor a network hidden beneath the city. I find myself wondering how many times I’ve walked above these unseen currents without ever suspecting they were there.

Having lived here all my life, I suddenly realize how little of Ti’lith I've truly known.

“House Malakor controls this sector.”

I follow his finger as it traces one of the primary conduits until it disappears beneath a smaller spire tucked behind Malakor’s manufactories. Something about it captures his attention. He leans closer, studying the faded silver outline that nearly disappears into the parchment before tracing the notation written beside it.

“This should not still exist,” he mutters almost to himself.

The structure has been labeled DECOMMISSIONED.

Rothgar studies it for another moment before speaking.

“This facility was abandoned decades ago after a structural collapse compromised the lightning conduits beneath it.”

My gaze follows the silver lines branching away from the building.

“They’re still connected.”

He nods and says nothing more. I stare at the forgotten spire, imagining supplies moving quietly through tunnels everyone else believes abandoned.

“If someone wanted to hide something,” he says, shaking his head in disbelief, “they would choose the one place inspectors no longer think to examine.”

The possibility sits heavily as we continue studying the district, each new detail drawing another thread into place.

As Rothgar compares another set of infrastructure records against the schematic, my attention catches on a cluster of unfamiliar markings beneath the eastern quarter.

“What do these symbols mean?”

Rothgar shifts beside me until his arm brushes mine, leaning over the schematic to indicate the narrow passages winding beneath the streets.

“Maintenance tunnels.”

His sleeve grazes my shoulder as his hand traces one route after another, explaining how engineers once reached damaged conduits without disrupting the city above. I try to keep my attention on the map, but the quiet warmth of him lingers far more insistently than it should.

“If storm-moth silk was being moved through these,” he explains. “It could bypass every customs checkpoint.”

“And the families?”

“I don’t know yet,” he replies, voice softening and expression turning thoughtful. “But I intend to find them.”

The hours slip quietly past as one scroll gives way to another. Candles are replaced without either of us looking up, and somewhere along the evening a servant leaves supper waiting near the hearth, untouched while we continue comparing names, routes, and engineering records.

Whenever I recognize a neighborhood connected to the disappearances, Rothgar marks it upon the schematic. In turn, he uncovers forgotten conduits and abandoned structures I never would have known existed, each discovery helping us fit another small piece into the puzzle spreading across the desk.

Slowly, I begin to understand how naturally our strengths fit together. I know the people who have disappeared because they were my neighbors. Rothgar understands the city that surrounds them in ways I never imagined possible, seeing patterns hidden beneath its streets that would have remained invisible to me.

The path forward is still uncertain, but it no longer feels invisible.

By the time night descends upon Galmoleth, the study has grown wonderfully quiet.